


be kind, aim for the heart

by Anonymous



Category: Hidden Legacy Series - Ilona Andrews
Genre: F/M, mentions of other canon characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26070499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "What is it you need me for?"There's a short pause before he answers. "I'd prefer to not discuss the matter over the phone.""Ominous, but alright. If you order me something to eat I can be at your office in 25 minutes," Arabella says and hangs up.
Relationships: Arabella Baylor/Augustine Montgomery
Comments: 5
Kudos: 32
Collections: Anonymous





	be kind, aim for the heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [valkyrierising](https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyrierising/gifts).



> Once upon a time, in November 2019 this started as a Yuletide Treat. But then life happened and I never managed to finish it. A few days ago I found it in my drafts and decided that it was time to finally tackle it. I hope it's alright to gift this to you in August almost 10 months later.

Arabella is on her way home from an awfully unfruitful meeting, belting out a song from the soundtrack to _Melted_ on full volume in her car, when an incoming call is cutting her one-woman Broadway show short. 

It's her private phone with the fun ringtone, instead of the work phone she uses for Baylor Investigations stuff. The caller identity is suppressed. Intriguing, she thinks, before picking up.

"Whoever you are, you just interrupted my perfect solo of the heroine's emotional musical number, buddy." 

"A loss to humankind, I imagine," the voice says. It's dry as the Sahara sands and she'd recognise it anywhere.

Arabella does a double take, but yes, it's still her private phone.

"What gives me the honour of an unannounced audience with the one and only Augustine Montgomery?"

"I may be in need of your expertise," he says, almost begrudgingly. She can imagine the look on his face, tight-knit brows and lips pressed into a thin line. If emotional constipation had an advertisement campaign he'd be their poster boy. 

"You want to hire Baylor Investigations?" Arabella asks. It's a trick question, but she needs to gauge his reaction to it. Watch them react, Nevada always tells her. Difficult over the phone (or when you're not a Truthseeker in general), but her sister is usually right. 

Augustine sighs. "Not exactly. But you already know that."

"I guess."

"Can we skip this part then?"

"The one where I make you squirm?" A truck cuts her from the left suddenly and she leans on the horn to give him the metaphorical middle finger. "No. You're basically asking me for a favour."

"I'm not squirming about anything. And I wouldn't go as far as calling it a favour. I don't do favours." 

"Well, you are not intending to hire our firm and you called me personally to ask for my quote unquote expertise, so I think favour describes it best." 

Arabella couldn't believe she had to discuss semantics with her de facto boss after a terrible day of not getting anything worthwhile done. 

"Who do you want to scare to death anyway?"

Paper rustles on the other end of line. "It don't need to scare anybody. This isn't about- that. I'm in need of a forensic scientist. Last I checked you had a college degree in Forensics, correct?"

Rhetorical question, ugh. How she hates it. Maybe they really should skip that part. "What is it you need me for?"

There's a short pause before he answers. "I'd prefer to not discuss the matter over the phone."

"Ominous, but alright. If you order me something to eat I can be at your office in 25 minutes," she says and hangs up. 

*

She had started college around the same time their grace period as a new House had run out and Catalina had taken over as the new Head of their House and all in all it hadn't been the best of times then.

But she's 25 now and things are more settled, she thinks. 

Arabella did go to college and she did get her degree. She's proud of it. 

She's not like her sisters; people don't tell her things because her powers make them do it. If somebody divulges their deepest secrets to her, it's because they are shitting themselves in fear of the Beast. It doesn't matter to her, it's the end result that counts.

But she is good at other things too. Finding little clues and connecting the dots, the science side behind it all. Even with all the math she had encountered during her courses, she still managed to graduate. Take that, Pythagoras. 

She does what needs to be done, taking cases as they come by: surveillance mostly, of cheating spouses and industrial espionage. But because of her background she is also fantastic at gathering evidence to the point it would withstand a court hearing, which has opened their area of operation to break-ins and similar matters. 

Arabella wouldn't call herself a CSI, but she has watched at least a combined 20 season of 5 different shows about it. It's not like it's on TV - it never is - but she still enjoys the work. It's calming, when her personality and her powers are not.

People have a certain expectation of what she is like, bold and fearless and loud. And she is, Arabella isn't ashamed of it. But she's more than that.

She parks her car right in front of the building five minutes earlier than estimated, in one of the parking spots reserved for clients. She figures Augustine won't mind. 

The ride in the elevator is quiet and when she arrives at the floor of his office the reception desk is unoccupied. Everything about the office is the way it has always been. Clean and chic, a high-class experience for high-class clients. You got what you paid for. 

She sees him sitting behind his desk, a white paper bag with what she hopes is delicious food sitting on one corner of it. 

Arabella smiles to herself.

Augustine often reminded her of a lotus flower. Due the physical surface structure of the leaves they repelled water to the point that the effect had been patented and sold. He, too, repels everything. He's a mirror, you saw what you saw, but it reflected the light. 

On the one hand Arabella is impressed by the constant effort it must take to keep up appearances, on the other she pities the man behind the mask. It's a very attractive mask, but that's neither here nor there. 

In her utterly honest opinion, nobody can blame her for thinking he's hot. It's his power after all, he's literally showing people his projection of a Greek god all day everyday. Augustine is, as a matter of fact, very pretty, both objectively and to her personally. 

Arabella'd had a silly teenage crush on him the way you'd crush on an actor or the member of a rock band - he was untouchable anyway. She's grown out of it. She's a fucking professional. (That's what she tries to tell herself.) 

"I can't believe you actually got me food," she says in lieu of a proper greeting as she enters his office. 

Augustine looks up from his laptop and gestures at the seat in front of his desk. A small frown pulls his eyebrows together. "It was your requirement for coming to meet me, wasn't it? And I know how you get when you're hangry." 

They'd worked together a couple of times over the years, whenever Catalina is too busy with House stuff. Arabella doesn't mind, she and Augustine get along most of the time. Unless she's hungry, but then nobody got along with her.

"Still, I'm touched." 

Under Augustine's watchful, and only slightly disapproving gaze, Arabella spreads the contents of the bag on the desk. There's two burgers in there; with extra bacon and dripping with cheese, a mix of normal and sweet potato fries and a guacamole dip.

"This might just be worth whatever illegal shit you want me to perform," she announces, takes a huge bite from the burger and grins at him with cheeks stuffed like a hamster on happy pills. Her last and only meal today had been a bowl of cocoa puffs for breakfast; this is heaven. 

He doesn't deny the allegations of illegality only rolls his eyes at her, steals a fry for himself and leans back in his chair. "Dominic Landing and Eliza Webber are getting married. Her parents are throwing them an enormous engagement party".

"Congrats," Arabella mumbles around a mouth full of food. She's never heard of the two, but remembers Rogan's and Nevada's wedding and gets cold shudders. 

"Their engagement is irrelevant to me. Houston's Who's who will be attending, including Wanda Donovan." Augustine stops, waiting for a question. Arabella only keeps chewing on her burger. She won't give him the satisfaction of her curiosity, even when it's eating her alive. "Wanda Donovan is tied to a few crimes, she's a Magus Sagittarius. Prime. I need her finger prints and her DNA without her finding out about it."

"Scroll, Inc. is not supposed to get wind of any of this either, I presume?"

"That would be right. The same would go for anybody else, including your family." 

"Do I need to sign a NDA?"

"Preferably." 

"We'll be going to that party, huh?"

"Yes, but we won't be arriving as ourselves."

Arabella frowns. "What do you mean?"

"Do you truly believe I do not have several carefully curated aliases in case I would need to not be myself for a while?"

The thought had never occurred to her, but it makes sense for a man in his position to come prepared for any occasion. Especially for somebody as paranoid as Augustine. 

He's sitting opposite her, a still as the marble he seems to be carved out of. But his eyes behind the glasses look different than usual - heated pools of fire, in comparison to the icy demeanour he sports. Something is wrong. 

"So you can turn yourself into one of your aliases, great. What about me? I don't think I should be attached to your secret alias, don't you think."

"My illusions can be extended to other persons as long as they are in close proximity."

This is brand new information.

"How close?"

"Far enough to be decent for such a high-profile occasion, don't worry. I am far more worried about your older sister." 

"Which one?"

"Both, mostly Nevada though."

Arabella shoves an unholy amount of salsa on her fry. "Neither Nevada nor Rogan will be attending, relax a little."

"Why?"

"Lucy brought home a nasty stomach bug from school and passed it to Jamie first and then both of them. Right now their house is more of a quarantine station than anything else. Catalina drove over this morning to check if they're still alive and bring some of her stew to feed them. So as long as we steer clear of House Shaffer it won't be any Truthseekers who blow our cover at this gig."

Augustine blinks at her for a moment. "Good to know."

"What are our chances of getting shot at?" she asks.

"Around 70%."

"Great, sounds fun. I'm in. I take our usual rate, plus whatever a dress for the party may cost me. It'll probably end torn and bloody anyway, so I'm more than fine with you paying for it." 

Augustine puts his finger against a touch pad on his desk. A light turns green and Arabella can hear something unlock. He opens the drawer and takes out a bundle of money.

"I'd estimate $5,000 should be enough. You're more than welcome to bill me for any further expanses." 

Arabella opens her mouth like a fish, but no words come out.

"Who keeps that much in cash in a drawer? What are you, a fucking drug lord?" Arabella almost can't believe it, the audacity.

"No, of course not." Augustine extends his hand - and he has very nice, large hands - with the dollar bills towards her. 

"I feel like you're my sugar daddy and it's weird," Arabella says and takes the money from him. He jerks back involuntarily, but she doesn't know if its from her comment or the millisecond of skin contact between them.

"Arabella," he draws out her name somehow, "everything hinges on us obtaining Wanda's prints and DNA. Nobody else's, hers. People know you're the Beast of Cologne."

She groans then, but waves at him to go on. She'd rather not think back on the shit show that particular disaster had been. 

She doesn't regret it, going from sealed records and being their dark horse to the spot light in such spectacular fashion. Catalina's life had been in mortal danger after all, but nothing had been the same ever since. Anybody who has ever read a single article about genetics has requested insight to her Scroll profile since then and she's turned them all down. 

"Your talent can't be our exit strategy," Augustine finishes his thoughts. 

"It won't. Trust me, I'll be ready." Arabella says with all the affirmation she knows he needs. 

Augustine nods, pulls out a stack of paper from another drawer and lays it in front of her. 

"Standard NDA."

She knows as much, trusts him more than any other client, yet she still takes the time to read the thing from start to finish, even having him change a clause here and there. He wouldn't expect it any other way. Then she signs it. 

"When's the party?" 

"Friday evening."

Arabella mentally checks the date, coming up horrified. "That's 48 hours from now?"

"Better be fast about buying a dress then," Augustine says. It's a dismissal, she can tell, he's just too far up his own ass to say as much.

"Can't I just wear a potato sack and you let your illusions do you work?"

"The less detail I have to spend on the mundane, the more I can focus my craft on ourselves," Augustine explains.

"Fine." She wipes her hands on the napkins and leaves the it all on the paper bag. Let him take care of it. "Thanks for the food, see you Friday."

"Goodnight Arabella."

The way he speaks her name makes her stomach somersault, but she ignores it and leaves him behind alone in his office.

Because she is a pro - and because she wasn't born yesterday - Arabella has Bern check Wanda Donovan's background as soon as she walks out the elevator and towards her car.

There's nothing extraordinary about her. She's in her late 40's, doesn't come from a House herself being the first Prime in her family, but married into House Asher very young and left again after her husband's death a few years later. She has no children.

According to the Internet she works for a security firm, finding faults in people's security systems. But that it's. She doesn't have an account on any social media site, no hobbies listed anywhere. Wanda Donovan is a clean slate. 

There's absolutely nothing memorable about her, other than .

Shallow waters are deep. 

Augustine wouldn't show any interest in her otherwise. Arabella can't wrap her head around the whole deal. She couldn't understand why he didn't just ask Nevada or Catalina, their powers were much better suited for something like this. Take her hostage, get her to answer any of his questions. 

Maybe he doesn't want to come straight to the point, rather gather intel and wait for Donovan to show her true colours. Still, Arabella's gut feeling tells her that this job is going to be different. 

*

Thursday and Friday pass in blur, accompanied with fitful hours of too little sleep. Arabella really hopes Augustine's illusion can work miracles on herself as well, because not even Maybelline's gonna be able to save her complexion. 

Arabella doesn't tell Catalina exactly what she's doing, only alludes to a new job in broad strokes, and most definitely doesn't tell her who she's doing it with. (Nevermind that phrase.)

She also doesn't take her dress shopping, opting to do it all on her own. Because if her dress will be the one thing not altered it would be too easy to be identified, connected to her. Which is also why she drives to a high class boutique over three hours outside of Houston. 

" **How am I going to look appearance-wise?** " she text Augustine, who unhelpfully only replies, " **Not like yourself**."

She gets a short (good for a quick departure) sparkly silver and black affair, something that resembles a good deal of other dresses. It's unlike her, which fits her just well enough. Arabella pays with the cash she got from Augustine, careful to not be seen by security monitors, hiding behind a baseball cap and large sunglasses, despite the disapproving look of the sales lady. 

" **I'll pick you up at 1800 at your house?** " Augustine texts.

Absolutely not, Arabella thinks. " **No, fam's here. C U @ MII, 6.** " She's contrary on purpose, but it's fun and she doesn't think to closely about why she wants to elicit a reaction from him specifically. 

**"Alright."**

Being nervous is unlike her. Arabella isn't scared of anything in the world, with the exception of being kidnapped and used as a oversized lab mouse for the rest of her life. But even then she knows Nevada and Catalina would come for her with back-up and burn the city down if need be.

No, this is different. Augustine and her had worked cases together before in the past, mostly surveillance though, never this close. It hits her that they will be posing as a couple tonight. Warmth pools in her belly. She's older, she's grown out of of her stupid crush. Or so she thought. 

Back home Arabella turns up the water until it's scalding her skin, leaving it all red. She can feel the heat deep within her bones. Afterwards she actually tries to make herself presentable, though nobody will see her efforts. At least the dress fits perfectly. 

Avoiding her sister doesn't work out the way she planned to.

"Is this a job or a date?" Catalina asks her, sitting in the kitchen and pouring over some documents.

Arabella is tempted to reply "Both", but thinks better of it. "It's good money," she lies instead. It is. Just not the main reason for saying yes to him. She can see Lina doesn't believe a word, but that's a problem for future Arabella. 

The drive during rush hour is hell, almost making her late. But when she parks her car in front of the skyscraper, there's a man in a suit waiting in front of the building and she _knows_ it's him. 

The man standing doesn't look like Augustine Montgomery at all, but she knows him well enough to recognise the little quirks and tells, things nobody else would ever notice. 

He's got mouse-brown hair and brown eyes. It's a nice face, if a little bland and forgettable. He looks younger than his usual self, almost boy-ish, with fuller cheeks and dimples. 

Arabella realises that he looks almost her age, but she doesn't know what to make of it. 

"Ready?" he asks, and even his voice is different. This is what being an Illusion Prime truly means. She's seen Augustine change his form a few times over the years, into Summoned beings and sometimes just to show off, but this is the real deal. Becoming someone different down to his finger prints on a whim. 

He's someone else now.

An itch under her skin crawls up her spine, the beast wanting to play, but she clenches her fists together and takes his offered arm. 

"Beauty and the Beast on Tour," Arabella announces cheerfully. Augustine falters in his step. "What's my name? What's yours?"

"Elsie and Jake Forester," he says without further comment. He leads her to a brand new car - Maserati, deep black. It's not one of his, obviously. Augustine opens the door for her, before going to the driver's seat. 

The car smells like new leather. It's a toy to show off Jake's wealth, his status. 

"Are you ready to bury this alias should anything go wrong?" Arabella asks. She hopes they won't have to, but needs to know her options.

Augustine clenches his jaw, a sign of his real self. "If need be, yes. Though I'd prefer if we didn't have to."

Arabella nods. The space inside the car is too small, too thick with something unnameable. She swallows. "What's your backstory?"

Augustine gives her an approximate recount of Jake's life and how he met his fiancee Elsie. Hearing him talk is relaxing, yet unsettling. He's Augustine and he's not. For one quick moment she wants to ask him to switch back to the persona she knows, but decides against it.

"Is the man we all know as Augustine the one you want to be?" Arabella asks instead. She watches his mimic closely.

He takes a deep breath. "It's what I want the world to see."

"But is it what _you_ want to see in the mirror?" 

"What I want is secondary," Augustine says, almost defeated. "At the end of the day you need to survive." 

Arabella has no idea what has brought this dark mood on him, but she puts her hand over his on the gear shift. His face shifts into the one she knows so well. "Better?" he asks, as if he has sensed her thoughts.

"As long as it's the face you wanna show, I'm fine." 

Something Arabella cannot define passes over his face, but it's gone just as quickly. 

*

The party itself is boring as hell. Of course everything it very tasteful and very expensive. The villa is lit in every corner, and overflowing with flower arrangements. It's the kind of rich Arabella never had any penchant for. 

It doesn't take long for people to come up to them. People chat up Jake, who works oversees in Europe apparently. 

Arabella leans in to his ear and whispers, "How do you have time for faking all of this?" 

"I never sleep," he answers with a smile. Augustine in this role not only looks but also feels younger. His hand is always on the small of her back. It's distracting, to always feels his gentle grip on her. It's decent, always, but she should've prepared herself better for this. 

They even talk to the happy couple for a few minutes, irrelevant small talk that cements their claim of attendance at this event. Arabella has done some research on the bride-to-be on Herald and compliments her styling choices, which grants them bonus points.

Afterwards they are free to do as they please.

"Drinks?" he asks and Arabella nods. One drink wouldn't hurt. The bar is well-stocked and the cocktail they mix hits hard after the first sip already. Better to take it slow. 

She can pinpoint the moment Augustine spots Wanda in the party crowd, because his touch at her side goes rigid. She subtly turns her head to get a better view and finds her immediately. It's quite easy, Wanda's a redhead and stands out from the others. Not for the first time she wants to ask him what's his business with her, but there are too many people around. 

Arabella puts a hand between his shoulder blades and softly caresses his back. They must look like the lovers they are playing. It's easy to herself in the act, almost too much so. She could easily pretend this is real. She knows Augustine isn't afraid of what's sleeping inside her. But she cannot lose herself pretending. Once his hand loses the tension she stops touching him. 

The evening drags on with not much happening. Augustine explains different familial ties and blood feuds to her. Sometimes she forgets what he does for a living, but he deals in secrets. That he's so willing to share them with her makes her heart flutter.

There is not a single chance to get close to Wanda Donovan. She doesn't know the Foresters and there's not reason for them to introduce themselves without being suspicious. Only when she decides to head for the toilet they decide to follow her in safe distance. 

Wanda's heels echo on the marble floor and Arabella has to do her best not to make too much noise following her. Suddenly there's another pair of heels clicking behind them. Arabella looks around fast and opens the first door to her right, dragging Augustine into it with her and closes it quietly.

It's a storage closet filled with a vacuum cleaner, cleaning agents and other stuff. It's a tight fit for the both of them. Outside they can hear a greeting between Wanda and another woman, which turns into idle chitchat between old friends.

"This may take a while," Augustine sights. 

Arabella tends to agree with him. Well, now may be the time to ask the million dollar question. "What is it she's done to you?" she whispers.

The silence is deafening. For a moment Arabella fears she may not receive an answer. 

"She's complicit in my family's murder," Augustine's voice cracks like thunder in the dark. 

Arabella knows about his father and sister - nothing else though - only because the Tremaine bitch has access to more secrets than a confessional box. And Victoria didn't share them with, thought her too bold and fearless to be of any use. Even Bern had never been able to get hold of any details. 

"I'm sorry."

"I want to see her burn," Augustine admits unexpectedly.

Arabella finds his hands and squeezes it. "We'll make sure of it." 

He turns his head and she realises just how close they are in this tight space. Electricity runs over her skin and leaves goosebumps in its wake. 

She doesn't know which one of them moves first, but somehow her lips land on his and it just fits, slotting together like a missing puzzle piece finding its place. 

For one glorious, singular moment in time his illusion flickers and she sees Augustine Julien Montgomery without armour for the first time. Arabella is a little too preoccupied with kissing him to give his slip of unwavering power the attention it deserves. _She did this, make him come undone._

His true face is close enough to the mask he wears, at least from what she can make out in the dark closet. The cheekbones are less pronounced, the nose slightly more crooked, like it has been broken before. 

Augustine presses her against wall of the storage closet. Cool metal meets her feverish skin. His mouth sucks on her lower lip just enough to have her moan against him. 

Arabella's hands grasp for his back, sliding under his dress shirt. Strong muscles, skin just as hot as hers. Augustine comes impossibly closer, blanketing her body with his. They make out against more, time just a distance entity. His legs bracket hers and she can feel him hard against her thigh. 

She wants this moment to last forever - to breathe him in, to taste him, pushing her tongue into his mouth.

There's a loud clatter outside, glasses shattering on the floor. They break apart, both of them realising exactly where they are and what they doing and with whom they are doing. On the hallway outside nothing follows but very creative cursing from one of the catering staff, but the moment it over.

Arabella wipes over her swollen lips, unable to form words. Augustine racks his hands through his already dishevelled hair. 

"I think we should forget this has happened," he says into the dark and it stings. Arabella hadn't expected flowers and love declarations. She is used to rejection in various forms, but she's still allowed to hurt. People only ever want the Beast, the genetic code running mapped in her cells. 

"Okay."

Something about the singular word must give it away, because Augustine faces her then and drags a hand over his face. For the first time in maybe all the time she's known him he looks not only tired but exhausted. The feeling's mutual. 

"Arabella."

"No, you're right. I'm sorry about it anyway. It wasn't us, it was Jake Forester and his Plus One. No harm done." The finality in her voice surprises even herself, but it helps her keep breathing. She's trying to find the steel in her spine and get out of this evening with her dignity unharmed. 

He wants to say her name again, Arabella can see it on his face, but thinks better of it. He has not right to push her away and demand reparations at the same time. 

Switching the topic, she asks, "Can you change the illusion of my appearance to one of the waitresses and hold it for at least ten minutes?"

Augustine licks his lips and Arabella has to look away. "Yes, but be quick about it."

They make themselves presentable, open the door carefully only to find it empty. 

In a matter of seconds she's a brown-haired high school student dressed in the uniform of the catering service. She moves into the kitchen as if she belongs there, snatching a tray of champagne flutes, and basically runs into the heart of the party. Augustine leans against a wall, focused on his phone.

Arabella finds Wanda easily enough and as luck has it her champagne flute is mercifully empty. With the grace of a trained dancer she offers her a new one in exchange for the empty one. Wanda barely mumbles a "Thank you", before continuing on with the conversation. Perfect. 

She takes another short look at the woman who is responsible for so much pain and swears to make her pay should they ever meet face to face again. Even though she wants to punch Augustine in his pretty face right now. 

Arabella uses the rest of her ten minutes mingling through the crowd, repeating the trick as to not draw any attention. When Augustine motions at the watch on his wrist she takes it as her cue to leave. She heads back to the kitchen, leaving the tray on a counter and lets Wanda's glass disappear into her bag. 

Augustine is back at her side, too close for both their comfort. But her skin turns darker again, her hair blacker. She's Elsie again and he needs the proximity to perform his magic trick. For the first time in a long while Arabella wishes the Beast wouldn't be only form she can morph into. Her face is no match for somebody who could change his appearance at will.

"Let's leave," she says, already walking towards the exit. The ride back home is silent, save for the random radio station. They should be celebrating: they did not get shot at, his alias is still set and she hadn't needed the Beast. But all she feels is empty.

When he finally drops her off at her car before his office she gets her keys from her clutch and then hands it to him without another word. She doesn't ask him what he needs the DNA and the prints for, doesn't dwell on the fact that he could've achieved all of this on his own.

She's so done with this night.

*

Three weeks pass. 

There's one call from Augustine early on, to her private phone, but she doesn't pick it up. He got what he needed; the rest is a fever dream that never happened. She works a few cases, scares a few people into paying their bills, the usual. 

A hefty payment arrives on their bank account, much more than a mission as simple warrants. Catalina makes a few subtle references to it, but Arabella decides to play dead and ignore them all. She can see her sister worries, but there's nothing to worry about.

It happened just as it always has. Men usually like to chase the monster, but never her. She doesn't know why she'd thought Augustine different. She hadn't had put any thought into it, but his rejection hurts regardless. 

Arabella knows Augustine has more issues than Vogue and she knows she's not marriage material for various reasons, but that he would drop her like a hot potato after one make out session is too much for even her self-esteem. 

Nevada is over with the kids one night - Arabella dutifully painting Lucy's toe nails in bright pink, while Lina and Jamie bake cookies in the kitchen - when there's a knock on the kitchen door. Augustine is standing on the threshold, like a vampire waiting to be invited. 

"Please tell me you don't have an assignment right now," Nevada sighs. 

"No," Augustine says. His eyes lock with Arabella. "I wanted to talk with Arabella for a moment." 

Catalina almost drops the plate with cookies, her eyes wide as saucers.

"Shush," Arabella motions at her. She gets up from the couch, ignores the shocked and interested looks from her sisters and walks outside. She doesn't stop until they are farther away from the house, away from any cameras or surveillance equipment. 

Arabella crosses her arms in front of her body. "I'm all ears."

"I may have reacted badly," Augustine admits. Arabella opens her mouth to shout something, but he holds up his hand. "I know. It's just... I was jealous."

Arabella can hear an imaginary needle scratch. "Of whom?"

"The version I played that night." 

"So you were jealous of yourself? Are you high?" she almost yells.

"I don't know, okay? You drive me to insanity. And I thought you preferred him to me." 

Arabella cannot believe she has to deal with this man. Or that she may have feelings for him. "Newsflash Montgomery, I had a crush on you for the past decade. And since I wasn't myself that night as well the same could be said about me or Elsie or whatever." Her head is spinning.

"I know that too." 

"Why are you here, Augustine?" 

"I wanted to apologise," he says.

"Apology accepted." She doesn't hold grudges anymore, except in desperate cases. It wouldn't help here anyway. They need to work together in the future again so they might as well get it out of the way now. 

"And I wanted to ask you out."

Arabella stares at him dumbfounded. "On a date?"

"As ourselves, this time," he adds unnecessarily. 

"What if it doesn't work out?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"What if it does work out?" 

Arabella can tell he doesn't take her seriously anymore, a smile threatening to break out on her face. "Just as well." 

"Are you ready to be associated with House Baylor?"

"You mean anymore than I already am?" His dry tone is making a comeback. "I could be asking the same of you and House Montgomery."

"You can't have a worse reputation than my brother's-in-law," she says. Then, "Okay, it's a deal. Do you wanna come back inside?"

Augustine takes a long hard look at the house behind them. "Not tonight." 

She understands, as she isn't too keen on going back there and be exposed to her sisters's interrogation. Augustine puts a kiss on her cheek, gentle as if he may scare her away. Her. Then he walks back to his car. "Goodnight Arabella."

"Goodnight." 

This could prove to be interesting, she thinks. 


End file.
